


love in a family dose

by laurapxlmer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Dad Draco, Dad Harry, Family, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, M/M, Pining, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurapxlmer/pseuds/laurapxlmer
Summary: draco and scorpius run into harry and al while christmas shopping / based off of fanart





	love in a family dose

[x ](http://hfflpffhoe.tumblr.com/post/131152752624/dearserpent-we-meet-again-im-more)

 

Draco hates Christmas.

 

Well, no. That’s a lie. Draco loves Christmas. When he was a child, the Manor was always decorated top to bottom by the house elves (and Draco when he was old enough to help but still young enough to want to). He always got gifts, of course, but he was a spoiled kid and got gifts all year long, so it was always more than gifts.

 

His mother and father didn’t fight around Christmas time, and Lucius was always his nicest around the holiday. Every Christmas before the Dark Lord joined them started with stockings before Draco and his parents had breakfast; next came the ‘real’ presents, followed by a late lunch with their extended family. The rolling hills around the Manor made the property look like the inside of a snow globe, and its beauty was only bested by that of Hogwarts in the winter.

 

Christmas time holds some of the best memories of Draco’s childhood, and Christmases only got better once Scorpius came along and Draco had someone to spoil and play with in the snow.

 

So no, Draco doesn’t hate really Christmas. Just Christmas shopping.

 

Diagon is absolutely packed. Given that it’s two weeks before Christmas, Draco is shocked – aren’t these people supposed to be more responsible than him, more grown up? Why did everyone pick _today_ of all days to do their last minute shopping?

 

They’ve been in the alley for several hours, Narcissa’s last present already bought, and Draco is ready to go home until Scorpius tugs on his father’s hand. “Can I go in the store?” asks the five-year-old.

 

Draco walks over out of the main pathway so he can crouch down in front of his son. “Which store, Scorp? You don’t want to go home?”

 

The little boy shakes his head. “Grandma wants a new dragon plush.” He points to the toy store across the alley.

 

“Oh, really?” Draco asks with a chuckle. “Grandma does, huh? Are you sure it isn’t _you_ who wants a new dragon?” Scorpius looks down and mumbles. “Scorp, please don’t mumble, I can’t understand you.”

 

“I want a new dragon.”

 

Draco smiles. “Was that so hard?” He stands and takes his son’s hand. “We can go look, but I’m not buying you one. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll get a new dragon plush for Christmas.”

 

Scorpius’s face lights up before he drags his father across the alley and into the toy store. Draco lets go of his hand and gives him free reign of the store, but keeps a close eye on him to see which dragon toy the five-year-old likes most so he can come back later to get it.

 

Scorpius tuckers himself out quickly playing with dragons; they’d gotten up earlier than normal with a nightmare and it was the toddler’s naptime. He asks his father to pick him up, and Draco can never really say no to those big grey-green eyes. They’re on their way out when Draco rams right into someone.

 

He checks Scorpius first to make sure the stranger knocking into them didn’t jostle the boy. Then he looks up and says, “I’m sorry, didn’t see you – Potter?”

 

And yes, it’s Harry Potter. Draco hasn’t seen him since… he can’t remember. He’s sure they’ve seen each other on the streets and at Ministry functions, but they’ve not really spoken since the Death Eater trials thirteen years ago. Just nods and waves, there might have been a few ‘hello’s and the odd ‘how are you’s.  


“Draco,” Potter says with a smile. “Hi.”

 

He’s holding a child, Draco assumes it’s his son, who’s about Scorpius’s age and looks exactly like a small version of Potter. The little boy is dressed like Santa Clause and has a stuffed puppy in his arms.

 

Wait. Potter has just called Draco by his given name. And he looks… better than any man over twenty-five should look. His dark hair is still a mess, naturally, but he makes it work – hasn’t he always? — and he has light stubble on his jaw. His glasses are the same, awful and round, and his eyes are bright as ever behind them.

 

Draco snaps himself out of his school-boy-with-a-crush mode and holds out a hand to shake. “Potter, nice to see you. Didn’t know you had a child.”

 

Potter’s handshake is firm, what you would expect from a hero. His hand isn’t as rough and callused as one would think, though. Don’t Aurors – “Three, actually. Taking Al here shopping for his mum, he wanted to buy her something special.”

 

“Are you still with We—Ginny? I thought I remembered seeing something in the Prophet about it a while back but can’t remember.” _That’s a lie and you know it_ , his inner Pansy told him.  


“Ginny is Al’s mum, yes.” Oh. _Oh._ “And who’s this little one?”

 

Draco looks down at Scorpius and smiles when he sees how enraptured the boy is with Al Potter. It must run in the family. “My only son, Scorpius.” Draco looks up at Potter’s son, who’s staring just as intently back at Scorpius. “Who seems just as taken with Al as Al is with him.”

 

Potter chuckles. “They’re intrigued by each other, just like their fathers.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco doesn’t say it with any malice, just curiosity.

 

“Oh, c’mon, Draco. You know we were always obsessed with each other in school. Always had to get a rise out of each other, that sort of thing.”

 

“If that isn’t the truth,” Draco says with a small chortle. Draco opens his mouth for parting pleasantries, but Potter beats him to speaking.

 

“Have you boys had lunch yet? Al and I have just left lunch with Luna and are dying for some ice cream.” Both boys perk up at the mention of ice cream, but Draco is taken aback. It’s almost freezing, and the Savior of the Wizarding World has just invited him to ice cream. When he doesn’t answer immediately, Potter adds quickly, “It’s alright if you don’t want to, or have somewhere to be. Or both.”

 

Draco chuckles at the other man’s rambling. “Eloquent, Potter.” He turns to his son and asks, “Would you like to go get ice cream before going home?”

 

Scorpius blinks and turns to his father as if just realizing he was still there. With two new people there and an ice cream offer on the table, he likely forgot his father. “Yes, please.”

 

Draco turns back to Potter, who’s smiling down at Scorpius. “You’re so polite, aren’t you! Nothing like your dad when he was younger, let me tell you.”

 

“Potter!” Draco squawks, causing the young boys to giggle. “I will not have you spreading such blatant lies to my child!” But Potter is laughing loudly, drawing attention of those near them. Which draws to Draco’s attention to the fact that they’re still in the middle of the walkway, busy Christmas shoppers bustling around them. “Well? Ice cream?”

 

“Ice cream,” Potter confirms. Potter takes the lead, the opposite direction he was headed before, towards Florean’s, and holds the door open for Draco and Scorpius.

 

Once inside, Draco sets Scorpius down and tells him to pick out two scoops of ice cream, and Potter does the same with Al. The toddlers walk side by side to pick out their flavors, and even end up picking the same two: cookie dough and chocolate chip. Draco shakes his head with a small smile. “They are already quite fond of each other, wouldn’t you say?”

 

Potter nods before ordering his chocolate and mint ice creams; Draco gets two scoops of strawberry. “I’m sure Al could squeeze a play date into his busy schedule, if you’d want to get them together again.”

 

Draco’s eyes go a bit wide, but he quickly regains composure. “You would be okay with that?” He pauses, because it’s stupid. Potter invited him to ice cream with their sons; he would be okay with a play date for their boys. “I mean, Ginny will be okay with that?”

 

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Potter asks with a shrug. Draco’s eyes flicker to his left arm, where his narcissus tattoo covers up where the now-grey Mark is. “Oh.” Potter shrugs again. “You were forced to take the Mark, Draco, it wasn’t a choice. I don’t believe you’d do it again. You and your mum saved my life. I said all of this at the trials years ago.”

 

“But,” Draco starts, “we hated each other in school.”

 

Potter rolls his eyes. “We’re in our thirties, Draco, I doubt our schoolyard rivalry matters anymore. Especially to the boys.”

 

Draco agrees, actually, but there’s still something not making sense. “Why do you want our sons to be friends?”

 

“They seem taken with each other, and Al needs more friends that aren’t his cousins.” Potter pauses and smirks. “It might just be an excuse to see you again, though.”

 

***

 

“Harry Potter and one of his kids is coming to your home in two hours and you haven’t picked out what you’re going to wear yet?”

 

Pansy is rummaging through Draco’s closet, Draco lying on the bed. His best friend always has been a bit dramatic. “What does it matter? Scorpius wants to play in the snow and then show Al his favorite toys. This has nothing to do with Potter and me.”

 

Pansy lets out a single laugh. “Cute, Drake, but we’ve all known for fucking _years_ how you feel about him. You’ve had that crush on him since what, third year?”

 

“Fourth,” Draco replies quietly.

 

“That’s almost twenty years, you twat.”  


“It’s harmless! I’ve barely seen him since school!” Draco sighs, giving up that line of defense quickly. He knows Pansy and his mother pick up on it when he reads the papers and hones in on Potter-related articles. “Why do I have to wear something nice to play in the snow? After that we’re probably going to sit and have an awkward conversation while the kids play in Scorp’s room. You also forget he’s most likely straight and possibly married.”

 

“Draco,” Pansy says with a roll of her eyes, “I’m going to dress you and you are going to be a cute little snow bunny. Then I’m going to lay out dry clothes for both you and Potter for once the four of you come inside.”

 

“You don’t want to dress my son as well?” Draco asks, sarcasm oozing out of his words.

 

“Funny,” Pansy replies in a tone that lets Draco know he is not funny at all. She turns from the closet and pulls Draco into a sitting position. “Put these on,” she says, handing him a pair of black –

 

“Pans, these are the tightest trousers I own.”

 

Pansy smirks but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge that Draco spoke. He takes his joggers off to trade them for the skintight black trousers Pansy bought him before Scorpius was born, during their clubbing days. “This should be good too.” Pansy throws Draco two more things; a grey long sleeve turtleneck and a lightweight black jacket.

 

Draco doesn’t question the woman, just pulls off his sleep shirt and trades it for the clothes she’s thrown at him. When he gets up and looks in the mirror, he silently admits that he does look good. He doesn’t dare tell Pansy, only because it will go to her head. “All done?”

 

Pansy nods. “Just wear the grey coat hanging downstairs and a scarf.”

 

“I can pick my own scarf?” Draco asks with mock enthusiasm.

 

“Not if you don’t stop with your sass.”

 

                                                            ***

 

Pimly the Elf informs Draco when the Potters arrive at the Manor five minutes early. Scorpius hears from the next room and runs down and out the door before Draco can even make sure he’s properly bundled; Draco can already hear giggling.

 

“You know,” he tells Potter when he sees the man standing awkwardly in the doorway, “it took him a week to warm up to the last person he met that wasn’t family.” It had; Pansy was abroad with one of her boyfriends until Scorp was about four months old, and by then he had developed a strong personality. He cried and pooped every time she held him for more than a week; Draco has no idea still how Pansy got him out of it.

 

“Really?” Potter asks. “Al loves everyone he meets.”

 

“Wonder where he got it from, because I remember you not being the friendliest of children when we first met, Potter.”

 

“It hadn’t been twelve hours since I’d learned I was a wizard, plus you insulted a friend of mine.” Potter pauses. “And you can call me Harry, you know.”

 

 _Harry._ “Harry,” Draco mumbles, trying it out on his tongue. It was odd, but not bad. “Well, should we go play in the snow, _Harry_?” The brunet nods and holds out his arm, motioning for Draco to go first.

 

Draco grabs his coat and scarf from the hook and looks at what Pot— Harry is wearing. It’s not much different than what he would wear during the winters at Hogwarts: denims, a warm jacket, and gloves, but with boots instead of ratty trainers. The clothes didn’t hang off of his small frame as they had in school – and his frame wasn’t as small, either, but Draco will _not_ let his mind wander _there_ – and, Draco loathes to admit it, but Harry had a bit more style than he did when he was younger. There goes something for Draco to tease the younger man about. At least his hair is still a mess and he has awful glasses.

 

When they get outside, the boys are already starting on a snowman, albeit a terrible excuse of one. “Want some help, boys?” Draco offers, pulling gloves out of his coat pocket.

 

Scorpius turns to his father, as if wondering what on earth he would be doing outside during _his_ play date. “Nope.” Scorp turns back to patting snow into a big ball.

 

Draco opens his mouth to correct his son on manners when Harry cuts in. “We could make a better snowman anyway, right Draco?”

 

Al’s head pops out from the other side of the bottom half of the snowman. “Nah uh!” he exclaims loudly.

 

Harry turns to Draco. “What do you say? Think we could build a better snowman than the boys?”

 

Draco raises his eyebrows at Harry, and Harry gives the smallest of nods. Apparently the competitive attitude isn’t new to Al, and Draco is endeared at Harry’s parenting. “Faster, too,” is what Draco replies with, getting gasps and yells of protest from the five-year-olds. Draco calls for Pimly and requests that she brings down old scarves and hats, some black buttons from the laundry room for smiles, and carrots for noses. “We’ll have to find our own arms, but now we all have the same equipment.”  


“Ready?” Harry asks, bending down to touch the snow, like a runner bending to touch the starting line.

 

“Set?” Draco answers.

 

“GO!” both Al and Scorpius yell at the same time.

 

Draco turns to Harry, who’s got a familiar look in his eye. “I’ll go find sticks for arms, you start on the bottom,” Draco tells Harry, who just nods and starts on making a snowball to roll into a snowman.

 

Draco returns several minutes later, complaining that he couldn’t find sticks the same length, and Harry’s already finished the bottom of the snowman. “Two layers or three?” Harry asks.

 

“Three,” Draco responds. “We can’t change a classic just to save time.”

 

They work in silence for several minutes, and they’re halfway finished with the middle part when Harry asks, “Was your House Elf wearing a hat?”

 

Draco smiles. “Has Granger not told you?”

 

Harry’s movements stutter. “Hermione? What would she have told me?”

 

“I’m a supporter of her work, even with House Elves,” Draco responds. He could have phrased it a million different ways without bringing up Granger, but this shocked Harry more, and maybe earned Draco some brownie points. “I don’t own Pimly. She’s a free Elf, who I pay for her services. She has a bedroom next to the kitchen, even, all to herself.”

 

“Wow.” Harry stands still for a few minutes, thinking about it. “Explains the coat, too.” He doesn’t move.

 

“Potter, get to work on the fucking snowman, I refuse to lose this competition to two children.”

 

Harry laughs at that. “Yes, sir.” Draco ignores the pulling feeling low in his stomach.

 

They’re finishing up the snowman’s head when Pimly pops up beside Draco again. “Mistress Narcissa is being in the fire for Master Draco,” she tells him.

 

“Ask her to come on through and to come down to the lawn, please,” Draco requests politely and turns to Harry, whose mouth is open a bit. “Is that alright with you? I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a judge for this competition we’re having. Pimly is completely biased, she’s hopelessly endeared with Scorp.”

 

“No it’s—“ Harry stops himself. “I haven’t seen your mother in a while, I’d love to see her again. It’s just… you’ve changed a lot, Draco.”

 

Draco tries not to blush, he really does, and thankfully, his mother walks out of the house to save him. “Hello, Mother,” he calls over his shoulder. Harry’s putting the finishing touches on the snowman’s head, so Draco sets to work on the buttons and arms.

 

“I didn’t know you had company,” Narcissa says in an apologetic tone.

 

“You’re fine, Mother, Scorpius and Al met in Diagon the other day and we set up a play date for them.”

 

“We?”

 

“Hello, Narcissa,” Harry says from behind the snowman. “Good to see you again.”

 

“Harry!” Narcissa exclaims, half-surprise and half-excitement. “It’s wonderful to see you again! It’s been ages.” She walks around the snowman and hugs Harry.

 

It shocks Draco. “When did you two become so close?”

 

“When you were off with Pansy in Paris every other week, Harry here came to thank me for what happened during the War.”

 

“We had weekly tea after,” Harry finishes, “right up until Al was born.”

 

“You have another son!” Narcissa exclaims, smiling brightly, as if it just registered that Scorpius has a friend over. “I never heard if you and Ginny had had a boy or girl.”

 

“Yep, we had Al, and little Lily about a year and a half later.” _He has a little girl too?_ Draco is curious to see how Harry acts with his other children, suddenly. Harry looks towards Al and Scorpius, about twenty yards from them, and yells, “Al! Come here!”

 

“Snowman!” Al responds, just as loud, and rushes to stick the arms in his snowman. They’re lopsided.

 

Harry wraps the scarf around the neck of the snowman and apologizes for Al’s behavior. “What is his full name, or is it just Al?” Narcissa asks.

 

“Albus Severus, but even just Albus is a big name for him. Plus, he doesn’t like it much. Prefers to be called Al.”

 

Draco fumbles with placing the blue hat on the snowman, trying not to think too hard about his godfather’s name being used as Harry’s son’s middle name – now is not the time to get emotional and ask personal questions.

 

“Done!” Scorpius yells, and turns to stick his tongue out at his dad. Then he sees Narcissa and shouts, “Grandma!” Scorpius runs halfway to them, then turns to drag Al with him. “Grandma, this is my best friend, Al!”

 

Narcissa squats down, getting eyelevel with the boys. Scorpius hugs her quickly, but doesn’t let go of Al’s hand. “Hello, have you boys been having fun in the snow?”

 

“Yeah!” Scorpius says, and proceeds to tell her about the snowman competition. Al throws in comments at the appropriate time, telling Narcissa how they named their snowman Frosty, and how maybe dad can enchant it like the movie, which he proceeds to tell Narcissa about after explaining what a movie is. Scorpius tells her how badly he wants to see the movie, because a talking snowman, _how cool is that, Grandma, do you think you can make ours talk_?

 

“Seems like we need a judge, Mother,” Draco tells her. “We had a competition, you see, who could make the better snowman the fastest.”

 

Narcissa raises her eyebrows, as normally Draco helps Scorpius instead of competing with him. He shrugs and nods at Harry, as if to say _damn Gryffindor got to me_ , so she turns to look at the snowmen. “Boys, did you name your snowman?”

 

“Um, no, ma’am,” Harry tells her. “But we _were_ finished first.”

 

Narcissa thinks a moment more before declaring Scorpius and Al the winners for creativity. Harry argues that it’s not fair, and immediately gets pelted with snowballs. Draco pulls his mother to the side to avoid getting in the cross hairs of the now-full-blown snowball fight. “You didn’t tell me Harry would be here, Draco.”

 

“I figured you would be at Aunt Andy’s all day,” Draco responds. “I can send them off, if you’d like—“

 

“Don’t be daft, Draco,” his mother scolds instantly. “I was just coming home to ask if you’d like to take Teddy to the park with Andromeda and me, but you’re busy.”

 

Draco frowns. “Any other day, Mother, and I would.” Draco pauses. “I just want Scorpius to have more friends his age, you know? He only really has Teddy, and he’s several years older and at school most of the year.”

 

“I know, darling,” Narcissa says softly. “I know. Now, I’m going to head back to Andromeda’s, you go have a snowball fight with those little boys. I’ll ask Pimly to have hot chocolate ready when you come inside.”

 

Draco thanks his mother and she goes back inside. He’s about to turn to the fight when he’s hit in the side of the head with a snowball. He falls over dramatically, clutching the side of his face. “Ow!” he exclaims. “My jaw!”

 

“Papa!” Scorpius yells, running over to his father. “Papa, Papa, Papa,” he repeats over and over, patting Draco’s arms and chest to get him to wake up.

 

“Draco,” and that’s Harry by his head. “Back up, Scorp, let me see if I can heal him before he has to go to the hospital.” Draco fights back a smirk and Scorpius screams. “Still a drama queen,” Harry whispers lowly in Draco’s ear; a shiver runs through the blond and he doubts it has to do anything with the snow.

 

He’s about to respond when Scorpius starts yelling and pushes Harry out of the way. “Papa,” he whines, “I meant to hit your stomach. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” He’s still patting at Draco, avoiding his face.

 

 _Now is as good of a time as ever,_ Draco thinks and wraps his arms around a now-giggling Scorpius, tackling him to the snowy ground. A tickle fight breaks out, and the Potter boys start throwing snow on top of the Malfoys.

 

 _Father is positively rolling in his grave,_ Draco thinks pleasantly. Eventually Scorpius comes to; he stops giggling and starts the counterattack on his father. Harry and Al laugh loudly and throw snow on Draco and Scorpius until turning on each other. When Scorpius frees himself, he joins Harry in pelting Al with hastily made snowballs; Draco has no choice but to join Al’s side.

 

It takes ten minutes for Al and Draco to surrender. Draco had talked Al into surrendering while they were on top and so they could get inside to the hot chocolate first. “Will there be marshmallows?” Al had asked, his only stipulation for quitting the fight.

 

When they’re all sitting and sipping hot chocolate – the boys with more marshmallows than actual hot chocolate, understandably – Draco tells Harry how he got Al to give up the fight. “You might have a Slytherin in your litter, you know.”

 

Harry laughs. “Wouldn’t surprise me. I was supposed to be Slytherin, you know.”

 

Draco does not choke on his coco, but comes damn near close. “What? Gryffindor’s Golden Boy was almost a snake?”

 

Harry nods before adding, “I asked the Hat to put me anywhere else.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Ron had told me that all bad witches and wizards came from Slytherin.” Harry blushes and looks down before adding, “And I didn’t want to be in the same house as you.”

 

Draco actually laughs at that, and he can tell it takes Harry by surprise. “I can imagine not, I was a bit of a brat to you.”

 

“Just to me?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised. “A _bit_?”

 

“Alright, a brat to everyone. A lot.”

 

Harry nods down at the boys, drinking their coco and talking in front of the fire. Draco can see Al’s eyes dropping, and imagines Scorpius’s face looks about the same. “We didn’t mess up too much, though, yeah?”

 

Draco nods, a small smile on his face.

 

Several minutes pass by in silence, and Draco is pretty sure the boys are asleep. Harry grabs the blanket from the back of the couch to drape over them while Draco brings all four mugs down to the kitchen. He brings back a tray with tea and finds Harry kneeling by Scorpius mumbling something just too low for Draco to hear.

 

“What were you and Scorp talking about?” Draco asks quietly when they’re both back on the couch and the boys are asleep.

 

Harry smiles. He whispers, “A secret.”

 

Draco rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the exploding warmth in his chest and down his arms. It feels like he just drank a big sip of tea at the perfect warmth. “Why did you name him after Severus?”

 

Harry sighs. “It’s a dumb name and a mouthful, right, Albus Severus, but they were two of the bravest men I knew.”

 

“But Sev bullied you,” Draco pushes.

 

“And Neville, and every student not in Slytherin,” Harry adds. “He did some really shitty things, but he did some really great things. I was there when he died, and he… he gave me his memories.”

 

Draco nods slowly, processing. Harry Potter owns the last bit of Draco’s godfather. “Those must be…” Draco looks for a word, eventually settling on, “interesting.”

 

“If you have a Pensieve, I’d be happy to send them over. If you’d like to see them.”

 

“If he gave them to—“

 

“Draco,” Harry says in a serious tone, “he was your godfather. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you saw them. There’s not much more than what I said for him at the trials.”

 

Draco remembers the trials well – not every detail like he once did, but everything important that was said is still locked away in his head and his Pensieve, though he hasn’t looked at those memories in ages. He shakes his head, trying to physically shake them from his head. “I’ll ask his portrait, regardless. It’s the best I can do short of digging him back up.”

 

That makes Harry laugh. “Please don’t, he probably wouldn’t take to well to having a Potter named for him.”

 

“Where are your other children? I heard you tell Mother you have a girl and another boy?”

 

“They’re with their mum at the Weasley house,” Harry says. “I normally would ask to bring them with me, but I figured Scorpius wouldn’t like sharing Al. Plus, Al needs a break from Jamie and Lily.”

 

Draco nods. “Thank you. They can join in another day, but today was…”

 

“Nice,” Harry finishes, smiling at Draco. Draco forgets to breathe for a moment.

 

***

 

Harry’s owl comes the day after Christmas.

 

_Draco,_

_Merry Christmas! I would say that I hope your Christmas was good, but Teddy is over and only shuts up about that half of his family when we give him presents or sweets. Al is very upset that Teddy knew Scorpius before him and decided not to share._

_Al would love another play date with Scorp whenever the two of you are available. If it’s all right, Jamie and Lily will be there – if not, they can go to the Burrow, no big deal._

_I’m free any weekday after four and almost every Saturday. Let me know when you’re free. Al is very anxious to see Scorpius again._

_See you,_

_Harry_

_and Al_

Al’s name is written bigger and messier than the rest of the letter, so Draco can only assume that the five-year-old signed his own name. There’s a smudge in the color that Al’s name is written in. He ignores the flutter in his stomach at just how cute Al is, and how his father makes Draco feel. He writes back and asks if the following day would be good for the Potters and says that he’s looking forward to meeting Harry’s other kids.

 

And if, as soon as Harry’s owl returns with a ‘can’t wait!’ and the address Draco firecalls Pansy to plan an outfit, no one has to know, and Draco will deny it if you ask.

 

***

 

Scorpius is easy to wake for school Tuesday morning with the promise of seeing his “new bestest friend ever” after. He bathes and eats his breakfast in record time, throwing on the clothes he and Draco laid out last night before racing to the door half an hour early. “Dad, come _on_ , we have to _go._ ”

 

Draco chuckles and explains that they can’t go earlier just to end the day earlier, and it won’t be long until he sees Al. “Now, Scorp, you know Al’s brother and sister will be there, right?”

 

Scorpius nods. “Al’s told me all about them, how Lily is still too young to play with him a lot and Jamie doesn’t like him at all. Why don’t I have a brother and sister?”

 

“Mum and I only wanted one perfect child.” Scorpius smiles brightly at the compliment, and Draco adds, “We didn’t get it, but you’re good enough.”  


“Dad!” Scorpius yells, and starts running after Draco.

 

Draco lets himself be caught five minutes later after the toddler catches him hiding under a table in the library, giving in to his son’s tickle attack. “I surrender! I surrender!” he cries. Scorpius sits on his dad’s chest with a grin to rival the Cheshire cat. “C’mon, son, get up. We have to leave.”

 

***

 

Whatever kind of house Draco thought the Potters would live in, this isn’t it. When he was younger and an idiot, he would’ve said that Potter would live in a small, dumpy house or, better yet, a box on the side of the road. After the War, Draco assumed that Harry would live in a small mansion fit for the Savior of the Wizarding World and his professional Quidditch player of a wife.

 

But Draco wasn’t expecting a quaint cottage – not large, but definitely not small – on the outskirts of London. As the Malfoys get closer to the Potter residence, Draco notices a small face looking out one of the front windows. Al runs to greet them, tackling Scorpius to the ground in a tight hug, giggling. They quickly get up and run back to the house, leaving Draco to walk up to the house himself.

 

The door is still open from the boys’ hurry, but Draco feels rude just walking in. He knocks, calling out, “Harry?”

 

“Come in!” Harry calls back, then says, quieter, to someone else, “No, you cannot wear the pink dress, Lily Luna, it is _stained_ and needs Grandma’s special cleaning. Here, how about the purple?”

 

Draco chuckles and walks in. The living room is decorated differently than what Draco would have thought as a petty teenager, but not surprising at all once he thinks about the Harry he knows now. There are two couches, one larger than the other, a very squashy looking chair, an old wooden rocking chair, and a large television. Draco’s seen them, as they’re a new edition to the pediatric ward, but he always has someone else work them.

 

He’s just taking his coat and gloves off when a small Ginny Weasley comes out in a bright blue tutu and green top. Well, she isn’t exactly an exact replica of Ginny – her hair is a paler red, she’s without her mother’s freckles, and she has Harry’s bright green eyes. With the lack of freckles and almost blonde hair, Draco thinks he could steal her and no one would suspect it, because she’s the most precious little girl he’s ever seen.

 

“Well, hello,” he says, crouching down in front of the little girl, ignoring her father walking into the room. “My name is Draco, are you the Princess Lily I’ve heard so much about?” It’s a lie – he’s not heard much about her, except that she has all of the good qualities from both of her parents, making her the hardest head in the house.

 

Her eyes darken. “I’m _not_ a princess, Mr. Drago.” She pronounces his name ‘Dray-go,’ like she hasn’t mastered the hard C yet. “I’m a warrior.”

 

Draco laughs. “I’m sure you are! But did you know that you could be a princess _and_ a warrior?” He face lights up, so Draco continues. “You can be anything you want! Princess warriors are only the best, prettiest, bravest, and smartest warriors out there.”

 

Lily turns around quickly. “Daddy! Did you know this?”

 

Draco can’t describe the look that Harry is giving him, but when he turns towards Lily, his face is apologetic. “I’m sorry, Lil, I thought you knew!”

 

She gasps. “So it’s true!” She runs out of the room quickly, and before Draco and Harry can even exchange more than a smile and quick a ‘hello,’ Lily comes back out with a plastic sword and starts hitting Harry’s legs.

 

He falls to the ground laughing, and Draco can’t help but look on and realize that his feelings from fourth year never went away. And Draco thought he couldn’t feel more for Harry than when he was so terrified of Harry not coming out of that dumb lake.

 

“Draco! Help!”

 

***

 

“I honestly can’t believe that went so well,” Harry tells Draco as he’s wrapping a sleeping Scorpius up in a blanket for the Floo journey back to Wiltshire. “Jamie almost never lets Al play Quidditch with him. They only bond over movies and chess, but Al is so much better than Jamie that it never ends well.”

 

Draco smiles at his son wrapped in Harry’s arms. “I’m glad it all worked out then.” He pauses. “Your children are so wonderful, Harry. You and Ginny have done an amazing job with them.”

 

He thinks that Harry blushes, but it could just be the warmth from the fire. “Thank you, they have nothing on Scorp though. He’s so fun and curious and _polite_ ; I can’t get mine to say thank you or wear proper clothing half the time.”

 

“They’re wonderful, regardless. I regret not giving Scorpius siblings occasionally.”

 

“Please, take my children, and you won’t regret it for a second,” Harry says with a laugh.

 

“Don’t tempt me,” Draco threatens, “or I’ll take you up on that. At least with Lily.”

 

Harry sighs. “Sadly, she’s mine. You’re welcome here any time, though, both of you.”

 

“As all of you are at the Manor.” Scorpius starts moving around in Harry’s arms, so Draco takes him carefully. They’re barely even touching, but there’s enough warmth –that Draco doesn’t think at all related to the fire at all – for Draco to pointedly ignore it. “I’ll owl you for their next play date, yeah? It’ll probably be sometime after the new year, we’re taking a trip to France for a week around then.”

 

Harry looks like he’s going to say something else, but what comes out is, “Sure. Be safe.”

 

***

 

“Sirs! There is being a firecall for the two of yous. Mister Harry Potter.” Pimly is standing in the doorway of the library, where Draco and Scorpius had been coloring.

 

“Al!” Scorpius exclaims and jumps out of his chair. He forgets to drop the crayon he was holding as he sprints for the living room where the fire is.

 

Draco chuckles. “Thank you, Pimly.” He stands up and makes his way to the fire. “Didn’t ex—“

 

Draco stops what he was saying; Scorpius has his head in the fire, and he’s talking animatedly to Harry about his day at school and how he was supposed to see Teddy tomorrow in Hogsmeade, _but Teddy got in trouble and is spending his weekend with someone even Papa is scared of!_ Scorpius sees Draco walk in, so he turns and asks, “What was that lady’s name, Papa? Mag—Maga—“

 

“Professor McGonagall,” Draco says, smiling. It makes his stomach jump and flip seeing how interested Harry is in Scorpius’s story, even though he’s bound to know about his godson getting detention already.

 

“Yeah, her! Anyway, did you know one time when Papa—“

 

“Scorp,” Draco chides lightly, kneeling beside his son at the hearth. “I’m sure Harry knows about Teddy being in trouble. Why don’t you go finish coloring your crup, and I’ll call you down when it’s time to leave.”

 

After Scorpius agrees and runs upstairs, shouting that he’ll be done soon, Draco turns to Harry. “This is a surprise,” he says. “We’re supposed to be at your house in an hour.”

 

Harry nods, and his smile fades. “I’m sorry, but I have to cancel tonight. Lily is sick and Ginny is away for work, so I’m bringing the boys to St. Mungo’s with us to get Lil checked out.”

 

Draco looks down, disappointed for his son and himself, and upset that sweet little Lily is sick. “I’m sorry, is she going to be okay?”

 

“Yeah, it’s just a cold I think, but I called Gin and we agreed it would be best if we get it checked out just in case. House full of kids, you know.” Harry paused. “I’m sorry to cancel, I know the boys were really looking forward to seeing each other tonight. Maybe you can come over tomorrow or Sunday if Lily is better.”

 

“Would you like me to watch the boys tonight?” Draco offers suddenly. “It won’t be easy taking an entire litter of Potters to the hospital on your own.”

 

Harry looks shocked. “I couldn’t ask you to do that, Draco.”

 

Draco rolls his eyes. “Harry, you know me. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. I’ll go get Scorpius and we’ll be right through.”

 

“That would be… so incredible. Jamie is terrified of St. Mungo’s, and there’s no one else to watch him. Molly has Rose and Hugo for Ron and Hermione’s anniversary date tonight, and Andy had a rough day with Teddy so I didn’t want to ask her.”

 

“Shut up, Potter, I said I’d do it. I’ll see you in ten minutes?”

 

Harry’s smile lights up his whole face; it makes the fire look dim. “Thank you, Draco. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

 

***

 

It’s no surprise that Harry Potter is the noisiest Floo traveler in the world.

 

Draco’s just gotten Al and Scorpius asleep in bed; Jamie insisted on waiting up, because he’s so worried about Lily, but made it ten minutes before falling asleep on the couch. Or, he had, before his father came crashing into the living room.

 

“Potter!” Draco hisses as Jamie stirs, but thankfully stays asleep. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get the boys down? Do be quiet.”

 

“Sorry,” Harry whispers. “Always hated Floo, and it’s no easier when I’m carrying someone.”

 

Draco shakes his head. “No, no, I understand, give her to me,” he says, taking Lily from his arms and placing her in the armchair he’d been reading in. He snatched one of the three pillows Jamie had brought down for her – _“Just in case she wants them when she gets home,” he had said_ – and throws a blanket over the sleeping girl. “What did the healer say?”

 

“Strep throat. She’s in pain, but they gave her a potion to make sure she wouldn’t get the boys sick, one to help with her cough, and one to knock her out.”

 

Draco nods. They see ten or more cases of strep a week in the children’s ward, so he’s no stranger to it. He’d already given Lily an unofficial diagnosis based on the five minutes he spent with her and hearing her symptoms before she’d been taken to the hospital.

 

Draco is about to say his goodbyes, until Harry says, “Would you like a drink? You probably deserve one after being used as an emergency babysitter.” He’s smiling, but Draco can see he’s exhausted.

 

“Harry, it’s late –“

 

“Draco, shut up and have a drink with me.”

 

They make their way into the kitchen, which doubles as a dining room, and Harry pours a glass of whiskey for them both. The conversation starts easy enough; Draco decided to go into Healing because he wanted to repay his debt to society and still work with potions, and now he loves it; Harry opened the orphanage out of Grimmauld Place for obvious reasons, and he didn’t want to be an Auror because he was tired of fighting. Scorpius was given his name based on family traditions, all of the Potter children were named after someone important to Harry; Harry’s favorite color was blue, and Draco’s was, predictably, green; they both prefer evening showers to morning showers, and both quite like 90’s Muggle music.

 

Then, as the bottle gets emptier, the questions get deeper. “Are you ever going to give me a straight answer about your marital status?” Draco asks boldly, causing Harry to give a single barking laugh.

 

“It’s obvious that we’re divorced, Draco, have been since Lily was born. We were separated before she was made, but we decided to have one last try at it.” Harry shrugs. “She’s still one of my best friends, think that’s really all she ever was.” He finishes off his glass and pours a new one. “Where’s Scorp’s mum?”

 

“Dead.” Draco’s glass is empty too, so he takes a swig from the bottle. “She was, without a doubt, the best person I knew. She gave up her chance at a real marriage to be with me so we could produce an heir for both our families.” He hiccups, then groans. “Why am I telling you this? It’s all very depressing.”

 

“You didn’t love her?”

 

Draco shakes his head longer than necessary. “Not like that.” He lays his head down on the table and groans again. The room is spinning just a little, and he can hear the ticking of the grandfather clock, the crackle of the fire. He hears Harry’s chair loudly scooting closer, all thoughts of keeping the children asleep gone.

 

Harry’s closer than expected when he speaks. “So you’ve never been in love?”

 

Draco looks up, and, like every cliché book he’s ever read, like every cheesy romance movie Pansy has dragged him to, without even thinking about how terrible it will be once the fallout comes, Draco answers by kissing Harry.

 

And it’s nothing like he’s expected all these years.

 

The fire from Draco’s imagination and dreams – the fire that only comes with hating and loving someone so much, for so long, simultaneously – isn’t there. Harry’s far too submissive and unresponsive, not stopping Draco but yet not allowing himself to be properly kissed.

 

Draco pulls back when he realizes why. Harry’s straight, he’s just a friend, and he’s drunk – they’re both terribly drunk, and this was a terrible idea. And they’ve got the kids to think about. The kids are just in the other room. He can’t— Draco can’t be here. He jumps out of his chair and makes his way towards the Floo.

 

“Draco,” Harry’s saying behind him, but it doesn’t sound like he’s moved.

 

 _He hasn’t, because he doesn’t want you. He’s not going to chase you._ The voice is eerily familiar to that of the guest his family had housed during the war, the voice from the nightmares that still occasionally make an appearance.

 

He doesn’t sound angry, but Draco reasons that he’s probably just shocked. The anger will come as soon as he realizes what Draco’s done.

 

“I’ll come for Scorpius tomorrow morning,” Draco says over his shoulder, not stopping. He won’t come himself though, he’ll send his mother and say he’s sick. He could’ve easily caught strep throat from Lily before the protective potion was given.

 

***

 

As it turns out, Draco doesn’t have to lie about being sick. He’s incredibly hung-over, and not just from the alcohol. When Pimly brings him breakfast, he asks her to send Narcissa in.

 

“Oh, darling, what’s wrong?” She sits on the side of the bed and sweeps a strand of hair back from his face.

 

“Sick,” Draco tells her. “Would you go get Scorpius from Harry’s?”

 

Narcissa purses her lips. “I will, but I don’t believe that you’re sick. Hung-over, yes, but not sick. Tell me what is wrong, Dragon.”

 

Draco groans. “I kissed Harry. We were drunk, and he’s straight.”

 

“Well, that would explain why his owl is downstairs and won’t leave until you take and read his letter.”

 

“Mother, no, I can’t. You… you know how I feel about him. How I’ve always felt about him. Just make the owl go away, make the pain go away.”

 

She runs her hand across his face, a deep frown on hers. “My darling, I wish I could. Just give it a few days, and read his letter.”

 

“Why? So I can read that he never wants to see me again? That he’s not going to let Al see Scorpius anymore? I’ve ruined my friendship with him, Mother, and in the process taken away Scorpius’s best friend.” He has to roll over and bury his face in the pillows so his mother doesn’t see him cry.

 

Narcissa shakes her head like she wants to say more, but she remains silent. She’s very big into letting Draco figure out his own problems. Draco realizes that it’s probably why he wasted two years post-war drinking and partying with Pansy constantly, sleeping with every wizard that he found even the slightest bit attractive.

 

Draco forces himself to stop the flow of tears, wipes them on the neck of his jumper, and sits back up. “C’mon, Mum, out with it,” he says.

 

Narcissa has a smile on her face – it’s small, it’s barely there, but it’s there. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you, Dragon. He looked half in love with you when the four of you made snowmen. That was _weeks_ ago, love.”

 

Draco shrugs. He doesn’t believe her, she’s just trying to make him feel better, so he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, Narcissa leaves Draco’s room with a sigh and a promise of his favorite meal for dinner.

 

After they eat their full English, something Lucius never let Draco have for dinner when he was alive, Scorpius follows Draco into his bedroom. “Papa,” he says in his most grown-up, adult voice, “I’m worry about you.”

 

“Worried, Scorpius, not worry,” Draco corrects half-heartedly. “Why are you worried, pumpkin?”

 

“You’re very sad. You didn’t come get me at Al’s.”

 

Draco sighs. “It’s nothing, no need to worry about me. Papa’s just a little sick.”

 

“Like Lily?” Scorpius asks, very concerned. He makes to move back before Draco can reassure him that it’s a different illness. “Oh. I think you’re lying.”

 

Draco sputters and chokes on nothing. “Where did you get that idea?”

 

“Grandma,” Scorpius says simply.

 

“Oh? And she told you that I’m lying, did she?” Narcissa chose that moment to walk in the room, and she just smiles knowingly. “Did you tell my son that I’m lying?” Draco’s partially amused, but he really just wants to go to sleep.

 

“I told him I did not think you were being completely honest with us or yourself, yes.” She raised her eyebrows and smirked a bit. “Come on, Scorpius, bath time.”

 

***

 

Draco doesn’t read Harry’s letter – he burns it and gives Harry’s owl lots of treats for her trouble.

 

It takes two weeks for Draco to break and owl Harry, and it’s only after he walks into Scorpius’s room and sees him crying over a toy Al left at the Manor.

 

_Harry,_

_I am sorry for running out the other night, and for my behavior. If you do not want to see me, I will understand, but Scorpius misses Al dearly. Please allow them to still be friends. My mother can bring him over for a play date at your convenience._

_Draco Malfoy_

 

 _There,_ Draco thinks, _short, to the point, and devoid of emotion._ He sends it off with Artemis and prays that he’s not re— that his son isn’t rejected.

 

There’s a letter waiting for Draco in the front hall when he returns from work the same afternoon; Harry’s reply is short, but tells Draco that he can bring Scorpius over himself the next day.

 

He doesn’t. He sends Narcissa, who argues with him until she’s angry, and leaves without even letting Scorpius say goodbye. He’s too excited, anyway; he misses his best friend more than anything, and he can’t stop talking about how maybe Al’s mum got him the dog he asked for for his birthday even though it’s still two weeks away.

 

Draco is just settling down in the sitting room with a book he picked up from Flourish on his lunch break when there’s loud banging on the front door.

 

“Master Draco, sir, it’s Harry Potter!” Pimly says, running in a moment later. She sounds out of breath. “He is being very angry, sir, but I didn’t let him in.”

 

Draco sighs. “Thank you, Pimly, I’ll handle him.” He gets up and makes his way to the front door, where a very angry Harry Potter is glaring at him, covered in snow. “Harry,” he says, feigning a polite coolness he adopted from his father, “what brings you here? My mother just brought Scorpius to your house.”

 

“Yes, she’s with the kids there now. I came talk to you.” He takes a breath. “Why did you block me from your Floo? Why didn’t you answer my letter two weeks ago?”

 

“I didn’t,” Draco lies. “I close it every evening unless I’m expecting someone. And I didn’t feel the need to respond to your letter.” _Because I didn’t read it._

 

“Bullshit, Draco,” Harry growls. “You didn’t even read the letter! Or you would’ve responded!”

 

“Harry, look—“

 

“No, fuck you, Draco! You’re such a selfish, arrogant prick, _just_ like in school.”

 

Draco bristles and butts in before Harry can continue. “Well, if you’ve just come to insult me, I’ll kindly ask you to leave.”

 

“Just stop lying! Why didn’t you read the letter?” Harry’s very angry now, he’s yelling and his face is turning red despite the cold snow steadily falling around him.

 

“I didn’t read it because I couldn’t stand you rejecting me again!” Draco yells back. “We became so close, and our children are best friends, and I know that I was stupid and lost you that night, but I didn’t want to see it in print! And I certainly didn’t want you telling me that Scorpius wasn’t allowed to be friends with Al anymore.”

 

Harry laughs, but it’s cold and harsh, not his usual warm laugh. “You’re a fucking _moron_ , Draco.” Harry walks into the Manor, pushing Draco back, and before Draco can fully think, _Oh great, he’s going to hit me like we’re fifteen_ , Harry’s kissing Draco.

 

And there it is; the fire Draco had been imagining. Harry’s lips burn against his – it’s a searing, urgent, sloppy kiss, with Harry’s hands gripping the collar of Draco’s shirt with both hands. Draco doesn’t take long to respond after getting over the shock. He holds Harry’s hips as tight as he dares, because he still hasn’t ruled out that he might get punched, and pulls him as close as physically possible. Draco loses himself in it, moves his lips and tongue in sync with Harry’s, and is only brought back to the moment when he feels sharp teeth on his bottom lip.

 

“Wait,” he groans, trying to pull away. “Harry, stop.” When Harry pulls away, he doesn’t look nearly as murderous as he was when he arrived at the Manor. “What are you doing?”

 

Harry laughs, and it’s not the cold laugh from moments ago, it’s warm and happy and it makes Draco smile. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I was sixteen,” is what he says instead of answering Draco’s question. Then he sighs, and says, “Which you would know if you read my letter. Where is it?”

 

Draco looks at the ground and rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh… I threw it in the fire.”

 

“You – what? You fucking _arsehole_! Why can’t you be fucking _decent_ for once! Except that you are, you’re bloody wonderful, and an amazing father, _fuck_ , ‘Mione was right, I should have just _talked_ to you instead of thinking you wouldn’t want to see me—“

 

“Harry!” Draco yells. “You’re talking to yourself.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “I do that when I’m frustrated sometimes. Could we talk? For real talk, not yelling and kissing and yelling.”

 

Draco nods. “I’ll ask Pimly for some tea.”

 

Once they’re settled in the sitting room with tea and a plate of biscuits, Harry starts without prompting. “After all of the shit that went down during the war and the final battle, I realized that maybe I had feelings for you. Ginny and I were broken up then, since she wanted to play Quidditch and Auror training was burning me out. And after the trials, I tried to talk to you, I was hoping you’d talk to me, but you just left and didn’t say a word. I even came round here hoping to see you. Every week when I saw your mum I asked after you, wondering where you were, if you were seeing anyone, how you were doing. And we were barely just back together, Ginny and me, when she got pregnant with James. So we didn’t _have_ to get married, but we really did because of her mother. So I let my feelings for you go, kind of, but every time I saw you they were back, and when we met in Diagon last month… I knew I had to do something. I even tried flirting, but you’re so thick you didn’t get it! How could you not understand that I was in love with you?” Harry sighed and bowed his head, completely ignoring his cuppa on the table in front of them.

 

“Oh.”

 

“‘Oh’? That’s it?”

 

 _‘Oh_ ’ is all that Draco can process right now. He tells Harry just as much, so Harry starts getting up to leave. “Harry, you have to understand how… huge this is,” he says, desperately trying for words. “I’ve been in love with you for a long, long time. When I was a kid I grew up just _knowing_ we’d be best friends at school, and when we weren’t, I _had_ to hate you, because how _dare_ you not want to be my friend when it’s what I’d dreamed about my entire life. And Pans kept telling me that I didn’t actually hate you, that hate that strong for that long comes from something else, but I was a kid, I didn’t believe her until you almost didn’t come out of that stupid lake when we were fourteen.” Draco takes a breath for what feels like the first time since Harry arrived.

 

“So…” Harry starts, looking at his knees with a small smile, “I fucked up when I didn’t run after you?”

 

Draco groans, but he has a wide smile on his face. He can’t look away from the man sitting next to him. “Harry, you got my father arrested _twice_ and I’m still _absolutely mad for you_. You’d have to something worse than following me when I was upset to get me to change that.” He puts his hand under Harry’s chin and lifts his face. “Can we stop being so dramatic now, maybe try a real relationship?”

 

Harry’s face almost splits in two when he smiles, then he literally flings himself on top of Draco and kisses every bit of skin he can get his mouth on – his lips, his face, his neck, his ears, his collarbones, his wrists, his fingers.

 

Draco is giggling like he’s back in school, his chest is on fire with passion and– and then his groin is on fire too. “Harry,” he pants, pushing the younger man away. “Stop now unless you plan to finish what you’ve started.” Draco is more disappointed than he’ll ever admit when Harry does pull back, putting a throw pillow between them on the couch even.

 

“No, I want to do this proper.” Draco gives him a look. “Well, as proper as possible. I’d like to take you out on a date – a real date with no kids or accidentally drinking too much.”

 

“I’d like that very much,” Draco says with a small smile. “Are we going to tell the kids?”

 

“Well, mine already know why I’m here, to some degree, and I’m not sure if Scorp has picked up on it or if Al told him. And your mum—“

 

“Is the world’s nosiest mother?”

 

“Ran me out of the house as soon as she got there.”

 

Draco chuckles. He makes a mental note to go into town and buy her a gift tomorrow. “Tomorrow night?” he asks regarding their date.

 

Harry’s on call tomorrow though, and Draco is working late shifts all next week. They agree on next Saturday, and seal it with a long, slow kiss that has Draco pulling back and telling him they can just go on a date right now if it would mean Harry would actually follow through. Harry laughs at him and makes for the door; Draco follows him and wraps him up in a thick sweater – he’d forgotten his in his rush to get to the Manor earlier.

 

“Hey,” Harry says and turns right before he walks out the door. He pulls Draco into a quick, searing kiss, then stares right into Draco’s eyes. “I love you. So much.”

 

Draco’s head feels airy and light at Harry’s casual use of the sentiment, and he hugs him tight, tucking his head down into the crook of Harry’s neck. He mumbles, “I’m so in love with you,” into the skin there, and doesn’t plan on letting go for a long time.

 

***

 

As is Draco’s luck, Scorpius comes down with the flu the morning of Draco and Harry’s date. He sends off a quick owl to Harry, asking him to Floo whenever he wakes up.

 

Five minutes later, the fire flares to life and Harry’s there. His hair is even messier, so he must’ve just woken up. They both have grins that are ridiculously wide when they see each other. Draco’s grin doesn’t stay long, though, as he tells Harry about Scorpius getting sick.

 

“I’m so sorry, Draco. I heard it was going around. Have you given him anything for it?”  


Draco nods. “Something so he can’t give it to anyone, and something to help with the pain and fever. There’s nothing I can do to make it go away.” The flu is Draco’s least favorite sickness in a child, because they don’t understand why they feel so bad and there’s nothing Draco can do for his son or patients than try to help take away the pain.

 

Draco and Scorpius spend the day coloring and reading – well, Draco tried to get Scorpius interested in coloring so he’d feel a little happier, and when that failed ended up reading to him until he fell asleep, starting the process over again whenever he’d wake up. It surprises them both when, around six in the evening, four familiar figures pop out of the fireplace at once, promptly falling over each other.

 

Scorpius and Draco both jump up in alarm, and Draco rushes to help the Potters. Albus is screaming at Jamie for landing on top of him and how he needs to go see his Scorpius.

 

Scorp hears Al and slowly helps Jamie off and hugs his best friend. Harry is kneeling and dusting soot off of Lily’s bright dress and pigtails, and Draco automatically starts doing the same for James. Once everyone is relatively ash-free, Draco turns to Harry, noticing for the first time the bag slung over one of his arms.

 

“So what on earth are you doing here?” Draco asks with an eyebrow raised.

 

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong,” Harry says, “but we had a date scheduled for tonight.” He opens his bag and shows Draco the ingredients he brought. “And I realized I’ve never cooked for you, and I’m actually pretty good at it.”

 

Draco shows him to the kitchen, turns to make sure none of the kids followed them, then grabbed Harry by the back of the neck to pull him in for a kiss. “Missed you,” he says quietly when they pull away minutes later. “You didn’t have to come. We could have rescheduled.”

 

Harry shrugs and kisses Draco again. “It’s probably stupid to think we could do anything proper anyway, yeah?” Draco laughs and nods. “Besides, I’m pretty content with our – with this.”

 

After dinner when Harry and the kids are on the floor by the fire playing a board game he brought from home and Draco is bringing in hot chocolate for everyone and marshmallows to roast on the fire, Draco realizes what Harry stopped himself from saying earlier. And he doesn’t mind Harry thinking of them that way, thinks of them that way himself. They are a family.

 

**Author's Note:**

> a few things~
> 
> -this is my first drarry fic. this is my first non one direction fic. please be nice if it's shit but also i love comments? feel free to tell me what you like or don't like about any aspect of the fic  
> -i've been working on this for a year and a half - from november 22, 2015 until today, april 17, 2017 at 6:09pm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> -i can't for the life of me find the artist who did the drawing this entire fic is based off of -- PLEASE let me know if you know the artist!!!!!
> 
> if you wanna scream at me about literally anything my tumblr is hfflpffhoe :)
> 
>  
> 
> http://hfflpffhoe.tumblr.com/post/159694622304/love-in-a-family-dose-by-lpalms15-draco-and


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